Rituals
by Ophidian Blue
Summary: One dark night, Chase and Wuya become absorbed in a discussion about the past. As the flames of the fire die, new flames are kindled elsewhere. Oneshot, ChaseXWuya.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown. I only own my words and would appreciate it if you don't take them. =] Thanks.**

**I wrote this fic for a Halloween challenge a few years ago but never bothered to post it. I've revised it a few times and finally decided that I like it the way it is. I guess you call these a "Oneshot". ChaseXWuya**

**Rituals**

"Halloween," he told her, stoic and unconcerned. "The rites… I forget. But it is significant, to some."

"How things change," she mused. She allowed herself a rueful smile.

Chase arched a brow.

"We had our own version. Steeped in ritual," she explained. "But the significance of such things has diminished. There are no sacred days, anymore." Firelight sent shadows shifting along the sharp lines of her face, and she sighed.

"And this disturbs you?" he asked, mindlessly stroking the head of the black panther at his side. Its eyes, a contemptuous cobalt, fixed upon her intently.

She considered his question, choosing how much of her own unrest she should reveal. "A bit," she vaguely admitted.

Chase smirked, narrowed his eyes. "The old ways are lost."

"I know."

"For all of us," he added.

"…I know."

Silence, intense but not uncomfortable, passed between them. The reminiscence was painful to her; barely-there memories of a life that, regardless, she could no longer live.

The old ways were lost, he'd said. Did he, too, regret the cruelty of time? Doubtful.

"Ritual…" he muttered; a timid question.

"Tradition," she responded. "Many generations of it."

"Elaborate."

She looked at him, skeptical. "Why do you care?"

He didn't answer. As if, she thought, to deny the notion that he owed her an explanation at all. And he didn't, of course.

"It's complicated," she said at length. "I'm not in the mood for a discussion." And the truth, she told herself, was that she couldn't quite recall. Turning to face him, she found him studying her; as if he somehow knew. His smirk had returned, but his demeanor had changed.

"What _are _you in the mood for?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed. She regarded him dubiously and caught the panther's scornful gaze again. Growing weary with the faithless beast, she shamelessly glared back. "For your precious animal to take its dim-witted stare elsewhere, perhaps."

He laughed, an arrogant sound that she heard far too often. And then he snapped his fingers, one swift click, and the panther begrudgingly stood. A final glance, accompanied by a low growl, easily relayed its distaste. But it soon vanished into the darkness of the adjoining hall, its ill-tempered presence lifted like a veil.

Puzzled, she shot him a questioning glance. He said nothing, and again the heavy silence fell down upon them.

What had him in such a charitable mood, she wondered? But she only considered it a moment before deciding that it didn't matter.

The fire, their warden against October's chill, had already begun to die. She made no move to restore it, and neither did he; her eyes were growing heavy, moreso even than her thoughts, and she had no plans of being awake to greet the midnight hour.

With mortality had come the need for slumber. It was peaceful, when she could achieve it, and so she didn't mind.

Her eyes fixed upon a stray ember, faintly glowing amidst the miniature hills of ash. Such is life, she thought apathetically; from strength to weakness, from the fire to the ash. For those who were lucky enough to remember, something flickered in between. But she, her memories washed away by the tide of her god, would sit forever amidst the ash.

She stood from the cold marble and turned to her host.

"Goodnight, Wuya."

As if he'd read her mind.

"Goodnight," she muttered. "Chase."

And so she left him, sitting stolidly before the dying fire, for the serene emptiness of sleep.

Or would have, if sleep had ever come.

Wrapped in the darkness of her bedchamber, the full force of her loneliness crept in. Her thoughts returned to those forgotten days; the acquisition of her power, and the price she'd been forced to pay. The same power, she thought, that both Dashi and Chase had taken away in self-righteous disregard. They didn't, and couldn't, know of her sacrifices; of the pain she'd endured to obtain such a gift. Conceited creatures, neither would they care. "What a piece of work you are," she said, heavily irritated by her attitude tonight. Self-pity was not an indulgence she allowed herself.

Ever.

But she needed to clear her head. This holiday had evoked too much, and she felt like no more than an abandoned child in the midst of her thoughts. Unceremoniously, she made her way back to where she'd left Chase hours ago. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, distrustful of the darkness. The blue-eyed panther crossed her mind. Although she had no idea what she'd done to rouse such hatred, she knew that she didn't trust the beast. Neither did she trust Chase to keep it at bay.

The embers on the fire had mostly died, but a few restless ones remained. With her elemental finesse, she coaxed them back to life carefully. The silent and moving warmth washed over her, and she relaxed. The fire danced before her, an entity all its own. She imagined, briefly, that traces of her former life lay trapped in its center, and she breathed the earthy smoke of her life into her lungs. From the far corner, which sat shrouded in darkness, came a rumble of warning that was all too familiar. Looking up, she met the twin blue discs as they emerged from the shadows, followed with her eyes the sleek, black body as the panther moved into the circle of light cast by the fire.

It had been waiting for her, she thought grimly. And now she was trapped.

The panther, moving with grace that only a feline could achieve, sauntered towards her, closer and closer. In response, she scooted cautiously across the cold marble, keeping the distance between them. For what purpose, she didn't know; delaying the inevitable, perhaps. But eventually the floor ended, and her back pressed against the equally freezing stone of the far wall. Her breaths quickened, her heart thudded, against her will. And the panther, seeming to sense its victory, slowed its pace. Their eyes met for a moment, and she thought she saw remnants of its former humanity reflected in their depths. But she only had that moment to consider it, for in the next instant, the beast was upon her, the sound of its displeasure accompanied by hot breath against her face. Heavy paws, with claws ever so slightly protruding, dug into the flesh of her shoulders, pinning her.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, knowing that the human beyond the guise could understand her words.

In response, the beast extended its claws. She winced as it punctured cloth and skin, as she saw the budding rose-blooms of blood from the corners of her eyes.

She heard it snarl, felt the sheer fury shaking its form. She closed her eyes, energy depleted, and prepared for its attack.

And then footsteps; a soft click. Her eyes flew open.

"Release her."

The panther, rage collected behind its eyes like water behind a dam, had no choice but to obey its master's command. A terrified child, the beast cautiously wandered into the darkness once again.

"No," Chase said, emerging from the shadow of the entryway. "Get out." And although she couldn't see it leave, she felt the room's change when it had gone. Again, the wicked presence diminished, and stillness prevailed.

She sat up, her eyes on her unlikely hero. His gaze came to rest on her bloody shoulders. Under his scrutiny, the pain hit her, and she shuddered against it. And then he was there, knelt before her, bearing an uncaring expression that didn't quite reach his demonic eyes.

"I suspected, after her behavior earlier, that she may attempt that," he said.

"Her?"

"Scathach," he said, as if it explained everything.

But the name, familiar to her in the way a dream is familiar upon waking, settled into her mind. "And you thought to intercept her," she droned. "You could have been faster." She gestured with trembling hands at her shoulders, the painful but yet unsevere wounds decorating them with an odd morbidity.

"And you, lovely, could have refrained from wandering," he said coolly. He extended his hand, and she slapped it away, glaring.

"Don't patronize me," she growled. "What's wrong with her?"

"Felines are territorial."

"I don't want her territory."

He smirked. "Perhaps," he began, "she's more afraid that it wants you."

She arched a brow at his implication. "Oh?"

"Merely a thought." His expression became serious again.

Impossible, reason replied. And yet… looking at him, she felt light-headed.

"Her territory takes whatever he wants," she responded, playing along for the sake of curiosity. "I'd know, if that were the situation."

"True," the demon admitted.

She waited.

"But he's giving you the chance to object." All at once, he'd seized her arms, pulling her, putting their faces inches from each other. His smile had long vanished. Instead, he stared into her eyes with feverish intensity that caught her off guard.

Impossible, reason repeated. And yet she had already given up her denial; Chase Young, evil and erotic and seemingly so unattainable, was…

"Only a fool would object," she muttered tentatively.

"And you are no fool," he whispered against her mouth. She yielded to him, let his tongue slide gently against hers. His lips were soft but strong, rough and smooth and insistent all at once.

She felt his essence, his raw power, as his mouth moved against hers. When at last he pulled away, slowly and deliberately, she stared into his eyes, questioning. His hand slid along her thigh, moved the fabric out of the way. She wore nothing beneath, as usual, and she gasped as she felt his hand against her.

"Chase?" Her eyes searched his.

"Shhh..." he murmured against her mouth.

Although her mind reeled, she relaxed beneath him. His hands gently roamed her body, softly stroked her dark thighs beneath the thin fabric.

"The old ways are obsolete," he murmured. "Old rituals forgotten."

"So we'll make new ones," she finished, yielding to him completely.

Later, as the night enveloped them, sleep finally befell her.

In the realm of her dreams, she was upon a starlit hill with grassland spread before her.

A breeze, bearing the scent of earthy flowers and smoke, rich herbs and a hint of something familiar - primrose? or lavender? - wove between her legs, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. She turned, in the languid movements so native to dreams. Behind her, cloaked in the fragrant darkness, bonfires jutted angrily from the earth, the gray smoke luminous against the black of the sky. And around them, dancers; hundreds of them, wild and untamed.

And they were all masked, dressed like the dead.

A drumbeat; pulsing so low, it could have been the heartbeat of the hill upon which she stood. Voices, carried by the wind, trembled through the autumnal air. Their song, in a tongue she recognized but could no longer understand, seemed to lay intimate claim to a part of her mind.

And then footsteps, close behind her.

She turned, and met a cobalt-blue gaze. The figure, cloaked in black and eerily masked, knelt before her. As if they were marionettes, given life by some unseen puppeteer, the remaining masked dancers followed suit; falling to their knees, as if in worship. She watched them, confused, then turned back to her blue-eyed companion, who had removed her mask.

The ghostly woman said nothing. but a heavy sadness hung from her features. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

A blinding flash from behind drew her attention. She turned again, and the silver moon had been transformed.

"Osei…" she breathed, the unmistakable visage of her former master having materialized before her eyes. Stunned, she could only stare; the sharp, unyielding features had not changed, and neither had the regal demeanor that she remembered so well. His eyes were transparent, the stars hiding in their depths.

But in life, she could recall, they had been the most beautiful shade of turquoise.

The most beautiful shade…

"Will you commune with the dead?" came his voice, shuddering through the hills like a roll of thunder.

And all around her, the masked dancers began to fade. Softly, silently, each one dissipated until only a thick cloud of ash remained. Tears pooling in her eyes, she looked to him again.

"We all must come to dust," God whispered in her ear, and she cried out, clawing at the air around her, fruitlessly swatting at the ashes of the dead that her lungs had drawn into her body. She coughed, rivulets of water spilling from her burning eyes. "Will you commune with the dead?" he asked again.

"I won't!" she shouted above the wind in her ears, and gasped as it abruptly stopped, the dust instantly gone. She opened her eyes, warily.

"Then let it be," the moon-Osei told her, suddenly serene. "Let it be…"

"I'm sorry." The words fell from her lips before she could stop them.

Moon-Osei's eyes bore into hers. Blackness, thick and moving, swirled within them. "You aren't. And neither are they," he said solemnly. "But you will be." And then he was gone. 


End file.
